Stand By Me
by Frakme
Summary: Sequel to 'Standing in the Shadows of Love'. AU, Reed/Tucker, with some T'Pol/Tucker. Trip and Malcolm get together, but when tragedy strikes, their fledgling relationship crashes and burns. Is Malcolm willing to stand by Trip who is bent on a path of self-destruction?
1. Chapter 1

**This is the sequel to "Standing in the Shadows of Love". It would help to read that first as this follows on directly from it and some of the story won't make sense if you don't. AU**

**Pairings : Mainly Reed/Tucker, some T'Pol/Tucker. And maybe the slightest hint of Archer/T'Pol. Possibly. We'll see. **

**Warnings : Thar be buckets o' Angst here! Plus sexy times and potty mouths. **

**I anticipate this will cover the end of season 2 and all of season 3. Maybe season 4 as well.**

**Title is from the song by Ben E King. Just got this whole Motown thing going on at the moment!**

**Disclaimer : I own nothing here but the plot that comes from my deranged imagination.**

**Missing Scene 'First Flight'**

* * *

"Think it's my turn tonight," Trip waved a bottle of Jim Beam at Malcolm, a half smile on his face.

"Interesting choice," said Malcolm, moving away from the open doorway. Trip followed him into his quarters and sat at the desk, while Malcolm sat on the bed.

"Yeah, it's dedicated to A.G. Robinson," said Trip, "It's what we drank when we toasted the NX-Beta."

"I was sorry to hear about him. I gather he was a friend of yours?"

"He was more the cap'n's friend than mine, but yeah, I knew him." Trip opened the bottle and poured into the proffered glasses.

He sat and contemplated the liquid in the glass, the light catching it, sending sparkles through the amber liquid.

"You remember I said 'bout how the cap'n nearly got me cashiered out of Starfleet?"

Malcolm nodded.

"You said that story was for another day," he recalled. "Is that today?"

"Yeah, it is," he said. "The day me and the cap'n became friends. You see…"

Malcolm listened quietly as Trip talked about his conversation in the bar with then Commander Archer, about his conviction that it was the intermix that was the problem. How Archer and Robinson had fought then worked together to steal the NX-Beta.

"You know, Robinson shot himself in the foot," he said, thoughtfully when he concluded his story. "If he hadn't been so damned arrogant, hadn't ignored the warnings when he was piloting the NX-Alpha, it'd probably be him as captain of the _Enterprise_, 'stead of Jon."

"I've only heard of him by reputation," said Malcolm. "Do you think he would've been a good captain?"

"Yeah, but not as good as Jon. You complain about the cap'n not following the rules, but compared to Robinson, he's-" Trip groped for an analogy. "I guess like you!"

"I'll take that as a compliment, shall I?" said Malcolm, dryly. Trip grinned sheepishly.

"I'm surprised at the captain not taking you along to see that nebula," the British man continued. A shadow passed over Trip's face.

"Well, to be honest, we're kind of avoiding being alone together. Besides, I think Jon wanted a chance to educate T'Pol a bit more about us humans and how we got out here."

Trip thought back to their recent shore leave. He and Jon had found a small secluded cove in a very temperate area of the uninhabited planet that T'Pol had suggested as a place for the crew to get some R&R. They'd swam, done some fishing, drank whisky around the campfire and talked about the good times they'd had together. But the inevitable had happened; Jon had expressed regret over the way their relationship had ended, made a pass at him and Trip had nearly succumbed.

But this time the thought of Malcolm, who'd seemed disappointed when Trip turned down the offer to accompany him on shore leave, had made firm his resolve to keep Jon at arm's length. He tried to let him down gently, stating that he'd been right to end their relationship and the older man had accepted with good grace. They both agreed that perhaps it would take some time before they could get their old camaraderie back, before love and lust had gotten in the way.

Malcolm looked at him carefully and Trip had a feeling that the quiet British man knew exactly where he was coming from.

"I had no idea the warp program had been so precarious," said Malcolm, bringing Trip back from his reverie, "That was quite a gamble the captain took."

"It was worth it though," said Trip with a smile. "I guess he felt he had nothing to lose as they were cancelling the warp project anyway. It would have taken us years to make up that ground if we'd been forced back to the drawing board."

"Do you ever wonder what you would've done if there hadn't been _Enterprise_?" asked Malcolm, knocking back his drink. Trip refilled both their glasses and shrugged.

"Stayed in warp research I guess," he said. "Probably would've married, started a family. What about you?"

"I guess it isn't really fair to ask you a question I can't answer myself." Malcolm gazed off in the distance, looking thoughtful. "Research would certainly have been appealing, weapons, of course. Beyond that… who knows."

"No one special then?"

Malcolm let out a short, bitter laugh.

"Perhaps I would've had another crack at guessing the names of Ruby's future children!"

"You really meant it, didn't you?" said Trip, quietly. "About what you said on the shuttlepod… about the crew."

"I meant everything I said on the shuttlepod. Unlike you!" Trip winced at the accusatory tone of Malcolm's voice.

"Malcolm, I-" Trip stopped and stared at the floor.

"I meant it," he continued, his voice low. "Then and now. I was jus' freaked because I thought you didn't feel the same way and I didn't want to lose you as a friend. Except for a while there I think I did."

He looked up when he felt Malcolm's hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know I pushed you away. I've always been rather good at that. It was always easy on Earth to walk away from other people when they got too close. But here on _Enterprise_ there's nowhere to go."

Malcolm's grip loosened as his hand slipped down Trip's arm to take his hand. He led the engineer towards the bed and they both sat down on it. Trip started to speak but Malcolm put up a hand to stop him.

"Hear me out, Trip" Malcolm said. "At the time, I didn't want anything but your friendship, especially since I thought you and the captain were already involved."

Trip started.

"You knew?" he said, astonished. "Why did you wait so long to say anything?"

"When you were still unconscious, I heard the captain tell you he loved you," he said. "I watched you both carefully afterwards and it appeared that perhaps you weren't involved or that you were very discreet. It was only when I saw the two of you kissing outside your quarters that I felt compelled to say something, though it was a conversation with T'Pol that finally spurred me into action."

"Oh," said Trip softly. Noticing their glasses were empty, he refilled them.

"What about now?" he said, looking at his friend.

"I began to realise recently that perhaps my feelings weren't as clear cut as I thought," Malcolm replied. "That perhaps despite my natural inclination to keep my distance from those around me, I've allowed you to get under my skin. Doesn't mean I don't think this thing between us isn't a terrible idea." Malcolm smiled to soften his words. Trip's heart hammered as he took in what Malcolm was telling him. He swallowed nervously, knowing he had to tread carefully.

"You've seen the shuttle crash that was my affair with Jon. I can't say I blame you from wantin' to run away screamin' from this."

Malcolm drew himself up, looking affronted.

"I've never run away screaming from anything! Unlike you on Exness IV!"

"C'mon, you saw the size that bug, it had ta be at least three feet long!"

Malcolm smirked and put on his most patronising tone of voice.

"Now, Commander I'm sure that the bug was more afraid of you that you were of it!"

"Aw, now you sound like my mama!" The two men laughed, harder than the story really warranted but they both welcomed the release of tension. When they finally stopped laughing, Trip wiping tears from his eyes, they found themselves leaning against each other. It was comforting and natural, feeling the other man's body against his, neither of them inclined to move.

Neither of them said anything, simply sat in companionable silence, sipping the rum. They'd been doing this more and more often, ever since Trip had gotten drunk and told Malcolm about his breakup with Jon. Spending time together, for no reason other than to share a bottle of something and each other's company. The feelings Trip had desperately tried to push aside for Jon's sake had started to resurface and he began to remember all the things that had attracted him to the armoury officer in the first place and he began to sense that maybe Malcolm was feeling the same way about him.

Besides, it made it easier avoiding Jon if he spent his off duty time with Malcolm. He wondered if Jon had noticed but then again, the captain seemed to be spending a lot more of his time with T'Pol.

He wondered if taking the Vulcan woman to see the nebula was more to do with her than talking about his deceased friend and proving a theory that Vulcans didn't believe in. He snickered at the thought, drawing Malcolm's attention.

"What's so amusing, Mr Tucker?"

"Jus' thinking about the captain and T'Pol… alone in a shuttlepod, looking for dark matter. I wonder if anyone ever replaced that bottle of bourbon in there?"

Malcolm looked slyly at the engineer.

"Are you thinking the captain's been eyeing up T'Pol's awfully nice bum?"

That set Trip off laughing again. Then he stood up looking at Malcolm, a smile playing on his lips.

"Wonder if he's compared it to mine. Do you think I have a nice ass?" Seeing Malcolm blush, he shook his head. "You don't have to answer that!"

Trying to cover his faux pas, he picked up the bottle and refilled their glasses again, passing one to his friend before sitting back down next to him, once again leaning against the armoury officer, who made no attempt to move away. Somehow the mood had changed anyway, at least it seem to Trip, seemingly more intimate. Malcolm was the first to break the silence.

"You know in the anti-fraternisation regs…"

"You mean the ones that ain't supposed to matter on our long term mission?" Trip interrupted. Malcolm glared at him.

"May I finish?" he said sarcastically. "They say you aren't supposed to get involved with someone in the same chain of command. And while they have been _relaxed_, they certainly can't be completely dismissed. They are there for a reason."

"Yeah I know that. I'm the last person you should be lecturing on those regs. Why d'ya think Jon and I went to such lengths to keep our relationship a secret?"

Trip sighed and drained his glass.

"Maybe the regs have been relaxed for our mission but not for the cap'n. Ya gotta feel for him. There ain't no one on the ship who he could safely be involved with. 'Cept maybe T'Pol as she isn't in Starfleet."

"What is it with you trying to pair off the captain and T'Pol?" Malcolm's lips twitched in amusement.

"I'm not!" the Southerner protested. "Why, you jealous?"

"Of whom? The Captain or T'Pol?"

They both started laughing again, Malcolm leaning back onto his hands. When they stopped he sighed theatrically.

"You've made me forget what I was originally talking about!"

"Anti-fraternisation regs," replied Trip, sounding the words out slowly and carefully. "Oh and technically, although I outrank you-"

"Not sure how _that_ happened!"

"Jeez, thanks for the vote of confidence, Malcolm!" Trip glared at the insubordinate and frankly gorgeous man now lounging back on the bed. "Anyway, oh hell, now you've made _me_ forget!"

Trip scratched his chin, aware of Malcolm's thigh pressing against his hip.

"Oh right, yeah. _Technic'ly_ yer a department head and report to the cap'n. So you ain't in my chain of command."

"And an approach should come from the junior officer." He looked up at Trip with a sly grin. "It seems we've _both_ been giving this a lot of thought!"

Trip looked steadily at Malcolm, as the other man sat back up.

"Mal, ya gotta know that I care about you. But I'm not asking anythin' from you. If you want me to go, I will."

"I don't want you to go," said Malcolm, meeting Trip's eyes. Trip thought his heart would explode in his chest as the other man moved closer. He was both scared and exhilarated, afraid he would screw things up again, overwhelmed by the nearness of the man he desired. He wondered if this was how Jon had felt back when he seduced Trip. _I'm not like you, Jon_. He thought fiercely. _I'm not going to take advantage of my friend!_

He remained still as Malcolm brought a tentative hand to Trip's cheek.

"I still think this is a _terrible_ idea," the British man said, just before he pressed his lips softly against the Southerner's. Trip froze, hardly daring to believe this was real, but before the other man could pull away he deepened the kiss, gently probing Malcolm's mouth with the tip of his tongue, his arms going around his waist. He was enthralled at how soft those lips were, how pliable and how Malcolm seem to melt into his embrace yet felt as hard as duranium. Eventually, they both had to come back up for air.

"I'd like to take this slowly," said Malcolm quietly. "I think it's important for both of us. I'd also like to keep it to ourselves, at least for now."

Trip's head was spinning, still shocked and delighted by the evening's turn of events. Right now, if Malcolm asked him to run naked to the bridge, he'd do it.

He smiled brilliantly.

"I guess I should go for now. Shall we make a date?" he asked.

"Tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night, 2000 hours," agreed Trip. "Gotta movie I want ya to see, called 'Memphis Belle'."

"Sounds like one of those awful early twentieth century musicals!"

"Nah, you'll love it. It's a World War II film, about a B17 bomber on its twenty-fifth bombing mission. You'll love it!"

"Sounds promising! I'll be there."

Trip brushed his lips over Malcolm's and saw himself out, grinning like crazy, hoping no one else saw him.

He went back to his quarters, feeling as if there was something wrong with the grav plating as he felt as if he was floating over the deck. As he got into bed, checking the alarm was still set, he thought back to Malcolm and the kiss.

He smiled to himself and closed his eyes, picturing Malcolm's face behind his lids, the still tasting him on his tongue. Almost unconsciously, his hand reached down to his cock and he stroked himself, imagining the hands touching him were the slim and elegant ones of his British friend. When he came, it was Malcolm's name that was on his lips, torn out of him as he hit his peak.

_Give me a chance, Malcolm_, he thought, sleepily. _We can make this work._

One thing was certain, it would be different this time. It would be equal and they would be open, not hiding in the shadows as he did with Jon.

_I love ya, Mal and I want the whole galaxy to know it._

* * *

Malcolm stood in the middle of the room, his heart beating rapidly, staring at the closed door. His lips still tingled from the kiss that Trip had lightly laid on his lips before he left. His head buzzed as well, not just from the bourbon they'd been drinking. He'd been thinking about this for days, of his developing feelings of affection for the chief engineer and whether to do anything about them. He wasn't kidding when he said he thought it was a terrible idea but still, that small part of him that wanted to rebel, the part the drove him into Starfleet against his father's wishes wanted him to throw caution to the wind.

He supposed Ensigns Mayweather and Sato were partly to blame. He was certain that their whispered conversation about Lieutenant Hess and Ensign Baker had been pitched for his ears.

* * *

_A couple of hours earlier_

"So did he kiss her?" Travis was looking eagerly at the Japanese woman who was smiling broadly as they hunched together across the table.

"Right as the credits rolled. Think she was surprised at first but… well all I can say is, it was good job they were sat at the back! The lights coming up took them by surprise."  
Travis chuckled.

"I just bet! So what happened next?"

"Well they pulled apart as if nothing happened, if I hadn't just happened to glance their way at the end of the film, I wouldn't have seen it. Then, they left the mess hall and I followed them to the turbolift. They both got off at D deck."

"That's where Baker has his quarters," Travis nodded sagely. "Where were you going?"

"Communications lab; I wanted to check on a program I'd left compiling. New algorithms for the UT."

"That's good enough for me, I guess I'd better pay up!" He handed over one of his alcohol ration chips. Sato took it off him, with a smug grin on her face.

"What is with engineers and armoury guys, anyway?" she said. "I think that is the third couple across those departments now. Zabul's hooked up with Taylor and I heard Fletcher and Burrows are seeing each other as well!"

"Dunno, must be something. Say, how are things with you and Ensign Tanner?"

"Oh we're not seeing each other any more, it was nice but there wasn't really much of a spark. So we called a day. We're still friends though."

"That's good… that is the tough part of shipboard romance, what happens when it all goes wrong. Not as if there is anywhere to escape!"

"Was it a big problem for boomers?"

"Sometimes," said Travis. "But the pros definitely outweighed the cons and people are generally really careful about getting involved with someone on board ship just because there is so much at stake. I guess everyone manages to rub along pretty well because they haven't a lot of choice."

* * *

Malcolm had left at that point, shaking his head. _Engineers and armoury officers_. He tried not to take an interest in his people's personal life as for him, it was exactly that; personal. He went to his quarters to catch up on some reading but his mind kept going back to the news about Hess and Baker. Tucker had mentioned some time ago that she'd seemed quite keen to take care of routine repairs in the armoury. It seems it wasn't just an enthusiasm for ensuring the armoury was in top condition that drew her there, Malcolm thought with a smirk. Of course being of a higher rank to Baker meant she had to let him make the first move.

_And Trip would have to wait for me_. That thought seem to come from out of the blue. Except it hadn't really. The two of them had become close again in recent weeks, as they had been before the shuttlepod incident. It shocked him how easy it had been to regain that friendship, especially when he considered how different they were.

Yet, he knew he longed for more. Despite his adherence to regulations, his need to be the perfect officer, Trip's previous relationship with their CO, he knew what he wanted. One Commander Charles Tucker III.


	2. Chapter 2

**I've drawn on Margaret Wander Bonnano's wonderful book The Dwellers in the Crucible for T'Pol's POV, as well as Diane Duane's Spock's World. I heartily recommend them both.**

**Missing scene/Post Ep The Expanse.**

* * *

_The Journal of Malcolm Reed. _

_April 28th 2153. _

_It's been nearly two months since I last wrote in here and so much has happened since then. The last entry I wrote expressed my hopes for my and Trip's future together, hopes that now are no more than space dust._

_I suppose I should've expected this. Perhaps it's just as well that I insisted on taking things slow. Right now Trip is with the captain in his quarters and I have to squash the unworthy thought that they're doing more than talking and making plans. I'm hoping the captain isn't trying to comfort Trip in the way that I'd hoped to._

_It's been six weeks since we received the terrible news from Earth, which grew steadily worse. Over seven million dead, wiped off the face of the planet. Florida, Trip's home state, taking much of the brunt. We've all seen the vicious, angry scar across the landscape and the damage caused by earthquakes and tsunamis that followed in its wake._

_And I've watched Trip's hope to find evidence of his sister's continued existence fade._

_He tried; he dug into his files for the comm codes of everyone who may have known Lizzie, sending them to his brother and parents, not knowing if his messages had gotten through to them as the communications nets were so disrupted. He tried contacting every aid agency he could think of but more often than not he got an automated reply or none at all, they were so overstretched by the enormity of their tasks._

_Trip asked me to come with him to see the trench, to see what remained of Lizzie's home. All his desperate calls and pleas came to nothing; no one had heard from her. All evidence points to her dying in the attack. Thinking of my own sister, I struggle to comprehend the sense of loss, especially as Madeline and I were never close, not like Trip and Lizzie. _

_In those few weeks before we got the terrible news, he'd told me all about his family and about her, about how when she was born he was prepared to hate her after his older brother teased him mercilessly, saying that his parents wouldn't love Trip now they had a new baby. How, when his Mama placed her gently in his arms, he knew he loved her and would always look after her. How he pulled her pigtails and she put bugs in his bed. How she cried on his shoulder when her first boyfriend broke up with her. How she sent him a wonderful care package when he went to the Academy and he suffered from overwhelming homesickness. The last time he saw her, a couple of weeks before Enterprise left for her journey to Qo'nos._

_He stared at the trench and I think I heard his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. When he turned to look at me, his eyes were cold. Gone was the joy that always shone from him, to be replaced with an implacable rage and thirst for vengeance. The naïve and optimistic man who'd set out on this journey two years ago was gone. The impulse I'd had to take him into my arms, died. I knew comfort was the last thing he wanted from me._

_So where does that leave me? Before the attack, we were moving closer, though cautiously. No one on board knew about our fledgling relationship, I had things I needed to tell him about me but I never got the chance. I've never really been open with any of my previous lovers, I've never allowed them to get that close to me, but with Trip I've felt that anything but complete honesty would never be enough for him or me. Much of it, I think, is because I'd never been friends with my previous lovers._

_Now, I hardly seen him outside of our duty shifts. When before we'd spent much of our off duty time together, now he doesn't seek me out at all. The opportunity I had to let him see the real me has gone._

_Bloody hell, I am selfish though! What is my need for Trip compared to the deaths of seven million innocents? I can't even bear to ask him if it's over between us. He has no room in his heart for anything but avenging his sister's murder. Every conversation we have now is only based on our weapons capability, our strategies for finding the people who committed this horrific act of destruction and it worries me that he can't seem to grieve. I tried to broach him about some kind of memorial and he pretty much bit my head off. Now when he looks at me, he doesn't see the man he loves but an instrument of his vengeance._

_I still love him. I've loved very few people in my life but when I love I can't just switch it off. I hope it lasts until he finds his way back to me, once we make sure Earth is safe. Until then, the only thing I can do is to be there to pick up the pieces when the rage finally tears him apart._

Malcolm capped the pen and closed the journal, placing it carefully in its wrapping and putting it back into the bottom of his closet. Although he kept a personal log in the usual way, he'd always kept his deepest thoughts in a paper journal, something he'd started when he was a teenager in Malaysia.

At a loss as to what else to do he decided to head for the armoury when the decision was taken out of his hands by the tactical alert. Pushing thoughts of Trip out of his mind, he raced to the bridge, his armoury officer's mask falling over his face, guarding his heart.

* * *

"Commander!"

Trip turned, to see Malcolm walking intently towards him.

"What's up, Lieutenant?" he said with a touch of impatience, "I was jus' about to go back to engineering."

"I was hoping you could spare someone to assist me with the port torpedo launcher. The mechanism has begun jamming again."

Trip ran a hand through his hair. He had cascade failures in the EPS grid, one of the plasma injectors had burnt out and now Hess was reporting a problem with the starboard nacelle. He was beginning to feel as though he'd barely got one problem fixed before something else went wrong. _Damn the Klingons!_

"I'll see what I can do," he said, barely looking at the smaller man. "I got all my engineers working flat out at the moment."

He wasn't exaggerating; everyone was working double shifts, the seven week journey at warp 5 plus the attacks by the Klingons had stressed the engine almost to its breaking point. _And this is just the _start _of our mission! _he thought despairingly. He himself was exhausted at a level he didn't even know existed, he'd barely slept in the thirteen weeks since the attack.

He tried not to think back to the last full night's sleep he had, when he and Malcolm had been together, watching a film in the engineer's quarters. The lieutenant had dozed off during the film, exhausted from a long day of hand-to-hand combat assessments. Unwilling to disturb him, Trip had gathered him into his arms and they slept peacefully together. He'd woken to find Malcolm asleep on his chest, his face free of the worry lines he normally wore from the stress of ensuring the safety of eighty humans, one Vulcan, one Denobulan and one small canine. Regretfully, Trip pushed the bittersweet memory out of his mind to concentrate on the here and now.

He walked away from Malcolm, finding it increasingly difficult to be around the man that somewhere, deep inside, he still loved. How he wished he could surrender to the impulse to fall into his arms, to allow himself to be comforted by him, to give into the aching grief that he held back behind a wall of rage. But he couldn't, not now; he needed to focus on the mission. The captain was counting on him to keep it together until they found the people responsible for the deaths of millions.

It was hard enough seeing his parents going through their own grief at losing a beautiful daughter, her life cut far too short. Trip's father had pulled his wife away from their son, when she began to beg him not to leave, the pain of losing one child unbearable, the thought of losing another, unthinkable. His father's eyes had met his son's, bleak with sorrow for a beloved daughter and he'd understood what his wife possibly couldn't. That their son was all ready gone.

* * *

T'Pol sat in her quarters, staring into the flame of the single candle illuminating her elegant features. Her goal; meditation, yet it seemed the serenity she normally found eluded her.

Her Mastery of the Unavoidable had been overwhelmed by the sheer scale of destruction on Earth. It had required many hours of contemplation and meditation on Earth to achieve something near the equanimity that had been hers before this tragedy had come to pass.

The captain had tried to persuade her to remain, to not accompany them into the Expanse. His reasons were logical, she had taught him much better than she had thought possible. An eyebrow raised slightly as she considered the irony that her reasons for staying were more based on emotion; her loyalty to the crew and to Captain Archer, who had taken every death as a personal affront, her anger at the injustice of those millions of innocents lost. Her shame that Vulcan had turned its back on Earth, leaving a lone human ship to face overwhelming odds to prevent the destruction of an entire planet.

So she joined the crew, wanting to help Jonathan Archer and his crew but it seems there was a price she had to pay, the erosion of her Vulcan nature.

Despite her many months among humans allowing her to be accustomed to their volatile and unchecked emotions, she had felt her mental shields weaken under the past three month's onslaught of heightened emotions she had experience from the crew in the wake of the Xindi attack. Emotions such as anger, hate, grief, fear and lust. The last was unexpected until she considered that perhaps the magnitude of destruction had triggered a primitive biological urge to mate, to replenish what had been lost.

As much as she could, she tried to minimise contact with the crew, aware that her mental defences needed to be at their strongest as they ventured into this region of space. She felt not a small amount of fear when she recalled the visual log of the _Vaankara_, the horrifying images of Vulcans stripped of all control, killing each other. She let the fear come to the fore, attempted to accept it and move past it, but still it clung to her.

Once more she stared into the candle, to centre herself. To accept the emotions within her, not allowing them to control her. To attain mastery over them. It was getting harder and harder every time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Post Ep The Xindi**

Trip slowly opened his eyes and looked at the clock. He sat up when he realised that he'd been asleep a full seven hours. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, feeling the most rested he'd had for a long time. Even the sedatives that Phlox had reluctantly given him hadn't done him this amount of good.

_Must remember to thank T'Pol_, he thought, recalling the neuropressure she persuaded him to try. He'd realised belatedly he'd fallen for the old 'reverse psychology' ploy. T'Pol was obviously learning a lot more about humans that he'd ever given her credit for.

He'd been desperate for sleep, he'd been using sedatives but Phlox was unhappy, citing the long term detrimental effects. Long sessions in the gym, when he had time for them, didn't help. Even when he was practically falling over with exhaustion he'd still wake up after a couple of hours, nightmares jolting him from his sleep.

The six weeks they had been in the expanse was taking its toll on him and the rest of the crew. He knew that with the captain depending on him, his insomnia was not sustainable. T'Pol had not seemed entirely comfortable with the idea of giving him the neuropressure treatment and he figured it was because of how intimate it had seemed. Still, he was grateful she was willing to endure some discomfort to help him get some badly needed sleep. It was not like he had a lot of options.

There were nights he wished he hadn't burned his bridges with Malcolm, when he was overcome with longing for the other man's presence, especially when he woke from another nightmare. He wanted to feel that slender yet strong body wrapped around him, shielding him from the demons that haunted his sleep. But he'd pushed Malcolm away and now the armoury officer kept him at a distance. There was also part of him that didn't want to seek comfort; it seemed wrong to ask for such when Lizzie was dead, unavenged. Yet he knew he owed Malcolm an explanation; the impression he got in those few weeks when he and Malcolm were together was that the British man did not give his affections easily.

He got out of bed and went to the shower; he still had the trellium-D on him despite a couple of showers the day before. He scrubbed himself red raw with a loofah to try and get it off his skin, they knew nothing about this stuff, so he had no idea what kind of effects to expect from his long term exposure to it. Still, he thought with a gallows smile, it might all be moot.

Idly reminding himself to ask T'Pol for another session, he got himself ready to report for duty.

* * *

T'Pol woke up at her accustomed time though she did not not feel she had rested well. She'd felt uneasy after Commander Tucker had left. The session was successful from his point of view and she was pleasantly surprised at how quickly he seemed to grasp the correct techniques when she asked him to try it on her.

However after the session, she had struggled with her nightly meditation, even more than usual, the sought after state of serenity even more elusive than normal, her emotions harder to control. She thought again of the _Vaankara_ and her fears that this region of space was having an effect on her. There was also the _Pa'nar _syndrome she still suffered to consider. She was continuing to consult with Phlox who still diligently searched out any information that could help her, but there was little to be found. It concerned her that perhaps this region of space could exacerbate her symptoms.

She still felt able to carry out her duties though and resolved to make more time to review the Disciplines after her duty shift had ended. She would also make time for Tucker as she had to prepare for the eventuality that he would wish for another session.

She'd admitted to herself she was starting to have some regrets about agreeing to come along on this mission. She had taken a great risk, defying the High Command, but she trusted Captain Archer. He had earned her loyalty and she couldn't in good conscience walk away from him in his hour of need. He'd proved himself to be a man of integrity and honour, assisting her when she went to him for help. How could she refuse him?

She was compelled to demonstrate that not all Vulcans were willing to allow Earth to face its fate alone. Surak was one man who had made a difference and changed the course of a civilisation. Perhaps it was not beyond the realms of possibility that she, one woman, could help prevent the annihilation of another one.

She had explained this to the captain one night when he'd asked her again why she had stayed. He smiled at her and said something odd that he wouldn't explain.

"For the want of a nail, the Kingdom was lost," he had said.

She'd approached Ensign Sato in the end and she explained that it was part of a fable which she then expanded on.

Despite his insistence that she remain behind, it seemed the captain required her presence here after all.

"Mind if I join ya, Lieutenant?" said Trip, looming over Malcolm as he nursed a late night cuppa. He nodded and gestured to a seat. Trip sat down, looking at him intently. He noted that the man appeared to be better rested than usual, he'd gotten used to the engineer looking tired, although the dark circles under his eyes hadn't disappeared, they'd seemed reduced.

"Is there something I can do for you, Commander?" he asked. He was curious, Trip hadn't actively sought his company in weeks.

"I jus' wanted to say something," said the engineer, softly. "Look Malcolm, I'm sorry for not being around but you gotta understand I jus' ain't got the time for us, not now." Malcolm heard the regret in Trip's voice and it cut him to the quick.

"You've nothing to explain, I'd already reached that conclusion by myself."

"Maybe… but I think it could have been good. Maybe when this is all over…"

"I'm trying to not think that far ahead," he interrupted sharply. "Let's face it, this mission carries enormous risks. And you and the captain have been taking the lion's share of them."

Trip bristled at the disapproval in the armoury officer's voice.  
"Oh c'mon Malcolm, you're still not pissed about me and the cap'n going to the mine?"

He refused to answer, just glared at the commander. He was used to the captain running roughshod over his caution but it didn't mean he had to like it. Especially as he had begun to wonder if the captain didn't trust him anymore, if he thought Reed was a weak link in the chain. Why else would he have brought Hayes and the MACOs on board? They had had no deep space experience yet apparently Malcolm and his security team were no longer good enough. He did have to admit the MACOs had acquitted themselves well on the mission but even then, Trip had said that his security officers would've done just as good a job.

"It's done now," he said wearily. "We got what we wanted, so I suppose that is all that matters, Commander."

"That's right," said Trip decisively. "Though I'm beginning to wonder if we'll find a bigger piece of the puzzle soon. I can't shake the feeling that time's running out." The anxiety on his face made Malcolm reach out and take Trip's hand.

"We have to believe we will prevail, Trip," he said softly. "Earth needs us to believe."

Trip managed to muster up a smile, but his blue eyes were bleak.

"God, I want to, Malcolm, I really do!" He got up and gently released the other man's hand.

"Thanks, Mal." He looked as if he was going to say more but then he walked away, leaving Malcolm staring after him.

He cleared away his now cold cup of tea. It was time to turn in; he had another busy day ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Post Ep, Raijin.**

Malcolm was exhausted and sore as he crept into bed. He really needed a shower but the hot water was off again in his section, due to the latest anomaly encounter and he couldn't face the walk to the nearest working communal shower.

The debriefing after Raijin's escape was hard, Archer was bitter and angry at having been duped. Malcolm was also concerned about Trip's injury and about T'Pol, who seemed rather out of sorts since her encounter with the Xindi spy. He noticed that Hoshi seemed upset as well.

However he looked at it, the mission so far had been a disaster, with Archer resorting to more and more desperate measures to obtain the information he sought. He tried not to think of the captain torturing the Ossarian prisoner, tried not to think what it implied for what else the captain could resort to in his search for the Xindi. What concerned him more was Trip's willingness to go along with the captain's methods.

They were no closer to finding them and now the Xindi had useful biological information about humans. If anyone had any doubts at the Xindi's determination to annihilate the human race, they had now been obliterated.

He closed his eyes to sleep but his mind was going a mile a minute. He knew it wasn't just this latest failure that had gotten to him. Trip, although he appeared to be resting better, was becoming increasingly fatalistic. Worse, he'd been hearing rumours that he'd been spending late nights in T'Pol's quarters.

It hurt to think that Trip might be seeking the comfort Malcolm was willing to offer him elsewhere. Yet he couldn't see the two of them together. He and Trip had discussed the enigmatic Vulcan woman, admiring her beauty and intelligence, though Trip also had a litany of complaints about her, many that Malcolm privately thought were unjustified. He had a hearty respect for the Vulcan woman, who had risked much to aid the captain in his mission to eliminate the threat to Earth.

It didn't stop him and Trip speculating about what a romantic relationship with her would be like one night, when they were sprawled out on Trip's bed together. The engineer had quickly dismissed the thought of it out of hand.

"Sure, she's gorgeous there ain't an ounce of fun in her," he'd said. "I jus' can't imagine her kickin' back or lettin' loose. Bein' spontaneous, like going skinny dipping or havin' a pillow fight!"

"To be fair, _I'd_ not do the skinny dipping." Malcolm smiled at Trip as the blond man rolled his eyes.

"Ya know what I mean, Mal. I like to have fun with my lovers. I want someone who'll laugh at my jokes and smile at me when I do somethin' stupid."

"To be fair most of your jokes aren't that funny." Trip had looked so outraged Malcolm had had to kiss thoroughly him to make up for his offence.

"There's the only having sex every seven years bit as well to consider." Malcolm reminded him.

Trip grimaced.

"Yeah, I remember! You're not gonna make me wait that long are ya?"

_I did make you wait_, he thought sadly. _Perhaps if I hadn't..._

No, it wouldn't have made a difference except he didn't have any real memories of intimacy with Trip to sustain him. Just the fantasies he conjured up when he wasn't too exhausted or distracted to feel the stirrings of desire.

* * *

Trip hesitated slightly at the door to T'Pol's quarters. Despite her reassurances that she was not concerned about the crew's speculations, he was still uncomfortable with it. However, over the last couple of nights his sleep had returned to its usual, disruptive patterns and it was pointless going back to Phlox. So once again he found himself outside T'Pol's door.

He wanted to come the previous night but she had anticipated his request and explained that due to Raijin's violation of her mind, she would require extra time in meditation. He'd immediately felt guilty he'd hadn't considered that she would need some time to recover. He felt a surge of anger as he remembered the duplicitous alien, who'd somehow managed to gain the captain's trust, only to betray him. She'd done something to Hoshi as well, he was sure of it. He knew he was angry at the captain as well, for being so quick to trust the beautiful alien woman.

He shook his head, trying to calm his thoughts before requesting entry. The door opened and T'Pol admitted him, looking cool and calm as always, dressed in her pale blue pyjamas. She silently gestured him to sit on the floor. The two of them sat cross legged, opposite each other as T'Pol reminded him of the correct breathing techniques.

She then asked him to remove his shirt and he did so without hesitation.

With the minimum of speech, she positioned him where she needed him to stimulate his neural nodes. A feeling of well being descended over him as she worked to release the tension within him.

"Commander!" her voice startled him and he realised he had started to drift off to sleep under her firm yet gentle ministrations.

"Sorry," he said, getting up. "Would you like me to do you now?" He then flushed as he realised what that had sounded like. T'Pol merely cocked an eyebrow at him, obviously not understanding the reason for his discomfiture.

"You are tired, perhaps another night?" she offered.

"No, I'm okay," he was quick to reassure her. "I'd really like to return the favour. It's just a relief knowing I'll get a decent night's sleep."

She nodded and allowed him to get to work. He concentrated on trying to remember the correct positions and listening carefully to her instructions as he applied the correct amount of pressure, pleased when he felt her relax under his ministrations. It required a lot of focus, which was good because it meant he wasn't able to think too much about the fact he was half undressed, touching a scantily clad, beautiful woman.

_Mind on the job_, he thought. When he had finished to her satisfaction, he stood up and swayed slightly as drowsiness overtook him.

"Are you alright, Commander?" asked T'Pol. She held out a hand to him but didn't quite touch him.

"Jus' tired, is all." He smiled at her. "Thank you," he said feelingly.

She nodded.

"I am pleased to be of assistance," she replied. She moved around the room extinguishing the candles.

Trip took that as a hint to leave and left straight for his quarters. Thankfully, he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

T'Pol carefully placed the candles back in their boxes. She was once again pleasantly surprised as how quickly the engineer learned the correct techniques for neuropressure. Then again she'd seen many a time how Humans demonstrated an ability to learn very quickly. That was perhaps what enabled their very rapid advancement, much faster than Vulcans'.

Still, despite her urging Tucker to continue the session, concerned at how his insomnia might impact on his work, she still felt ambivalent about it. Her feelings towards him were confusing her. He was attractive for a human and she respected him for his abilities. However she found him grating at times, disingenuous, intractable and volatile. His emotions were always close to the surface, almost drowning out those around him.

She felt more comfortable around the captain, who although could be equally passionate, seemed more able to direct his emotions in a productive manner. He was more mature than his younger chief engineer, more able to rein in the more volatile aspects of his human nature.

She and the captain had become closer in the past year, building a relationship based on trust and mutual respect. She never really considered the humans around her as equals, when viewed dispassionately, Vulcans were physically and intellectually superior. However, the captain was the one person she could consider an equal. Since the attack on Earth though, he had become distant, from her, even from Commander Tucker, though the distance between them had began after the unfortunate contact with the Vissians.

She'd been aware, prior to this, that the two men had been involved in an intimate relationship, though only weeks before the captain had ended it. She had urged the captain to try and repair their friendship without resuming the intimacy, but the attack on Earth had caused the captain to further withdraw.

She wondered if this was a deliberate act on his part; the mission they were on was extremely dangerous. Already there had been one fatality and there was likely to be more. Perhaps it made it easier for him to order the crew to their deaths if he cut himself off from them. T'Pol experienced regret at this change in the captain's mindset. Something of his humanity had been lost here in the Expanse and although it was illogical, she hoped that he would find it again.

* * *

Jon paced his quarters, unable to sleep, Porthos watching him from his doggy bed. His mind kept going over the events in recent weeks, especially their run in with Raijin. The situation was becoming even more desperate; every day they spent here running after tenuous clues was one day closer to the destruction of Earth. He was forced to take greater risks to achieve his goal but the one thing he couldn't do was risk the ship. If his actions caused the destruction of the _Enterprise_ then humanity's chances of ending the Xindi threat reduced from slim to none. It was a fine line he was treading on, one that was getting thinner every day.

He sat down on the bed, exhausted, yet he knew he wouldn't sleep. He pulled a PADD off his shelf, hoping to find something to read or watch that would help him unwind. Porthos jumped up beside, but even the small canine, head resting on his knee and looking up at him with those trusting brown eyes, couldn't soothe him.

He switched the PADD on, not certain he recognised any of the files, which were videos simply labelled with dates. He selected one at random, dated 21st April, 2150. He realised this video had been taken the year before _Enterprise_ had been launched. He pressed play.

The image of the screen showed the _Enterprise_'s engine room, looking very bare. There was no warp reactor, though some of the supports and gantries were in place. It was a mess of wires, conduits and open panels he could see, as whoever was holding the camera panned around the room. A figure came into view, it was him.

Seeing himself on the screen, a wide smile on his face, he was shaken at how much younger he looked on the PADD's screen. He felt as though he had aged ten years in as many weeks.

"_There you are, Cap'n! Here he is, the man o' the hour, Captain Jonathan Archer. You come to see the big event?"_

He paused the playback, the memories flooding back. This was the day that the shell of of the warp reactor had been fitted. Trip had recently received his promotion to commander and the confirmation of his position of Chief Engineer; they'd celebrated at the 602 club along with the rest of the engineers working on the NX-01 project.

He resumed the playback and the image shook slightly as Trip passed the camera to another crew member, to stand alongside the captain. The shell was currently in sections at the aft part of engineering, where the workshops would be.

A sharp pain caught him in the chest as he saw the smiling face of his chief engineer. Jon wasn't the only one who had aged, Trip in the video was more youthful, his face free from the traces of grief and anger that now lined his face today. In the video, his eyes were bright with joy and adventure, practically humming with energy. Jon's eyes blurred as his mind tuned out the conversation in the playback and he reached to touch the face of his former best friend and lover.

"Dammit," he whispered, as he jabbed the PADD to stop the playback. He tossed the PADD on to his desk and roughly wiped his eyes. This was not the time to mourn lost loves, lost opportunities and his dreams of the past. He had a mission to complete and he couldn't let anything stand in his way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Post ep 'Impulse'**

"Hey Malcolm, wait up!," Trip jogged down the corridor, seeing the armoury officer ahead of him. On hearing his name, Malcolm stopped.

"I didn't see you at movie night," Trip asked once he'd caught up with him.

"I was busy," he replied. "I had quite a bit of work to catch up on."

Trip was disappointed.

"Try to make the next one," he said, "Even T'Pol came, though she seemed to dash off pretty quick at the end. You gotta take some time to relax!"

Malcolm shook his head.

"If it's all the same to you, Commander," he said coolly, "I'd rather not. If you'll excuse me?"

Trip nodded as Malcolm turned and continued on his way, staring at the back of the other man.

_I can't say I didn't try!_ He thought. He'd suggested reinstating movie night to the captain thinking that it would help morale on the ship, take everyone's mind off the mission just for a couple of hours. Tensions were getting high, he'd even noticed T'Pol seemed a little tense… though not compared to what she'd been like when she'd returned from the _Seleya_. He shivered slightly at the memory, seeing the captain racing to sickbay with the stricken Vulcan in his arms. The captain hadn't told him what exactly happened on the Vulcan ship, but it seemed bad. Then he'd told Trip about Vulcans and trellium.

He shook his head, they'd isolated the trellium in the cargo bay but Tucker was worried they may have contaminated other parts of the ship, thinking back to their mission to the mine. He made himself a mental note to speak to maintenance to check the rest of the ship for any other contamination. There was also the transporter room clean up as well, which had started. He decided to head down there to see how they were progressing.

"Slowly!" said one of the crewman, who was trying to remove one of the panels.

"Get all the help you need, Crewman," said Tucker. Looking around the area he saw they only had some standard cargo containers to store the recovered trellium in. "Get some biohazard containers to put the trellium in, then store it with the others in cargo bay two."

"Aye sir," the crewmen acknowledged.

One final check on engineering, a message to T'Pol to tell her to avoid the transporter area and he was ready to retire for the night. Back in his quarters, was soon asleep.

"_Lizzie, Lizzie!" he shouts, seeing his sister waving at him. "Run Lizzie, ya gotta get out of here!" In the distance he can see a massive column of light heading towards them. He tries to run towards his sister but his feet are frozen. She continues to wave at him as the column comes closer._

"_Get out now, Lizzie, please!" He can see her shaking her head indicating she can't hear him. The column is almost on top of her now and she turns slightly. Her face changes to an expression of horror as the column engulfs her and she's burning…_

"NO!" Trip sat up, shaking, his heart racing, soaked in sweat. He can feel the tears prick at his eyes. _Lizzie!_ He pressed his hands against his eyes, trying to bring himself under control. He couldn't give into grief now. He simply couldn't; if he did he might not stop. Once he'd stopped shaking, he took his hands away from his eyes and glanced at the clock. He'd only been asleep for three hours! Feeling wide awake, he got out of bed and headed for the shower. It was going to be another long day.

* * *

Malcolm saved the last report and sat back in his chair. He'd have to go to bed now, there wasn't anything left that he could do, barring the ship encountering another crisis. As he walked back to his quarters, his mind no longer occupied with training schedules, duty rosters, weapons maintenance and testing, he remembered his conversation with Trip. He honestly hadn't been in the mood for the movie that night, his excursion to the _Seleya_ had shook him up more than he thought. He'd also had to deal with the flak from Hayes over Hawkins getting hurt.

He tried to see it from the other man's point of view, that if their positions had been reversed and one of his team had been injured then he'd be just as angry. However his overriding thought was that Hayes didn't seem to understand that on this mission people _were_ going to get hurt.

Shaking his head as he entered his quarters, he tried to put the thoughts of the Major out of his mind and thought back to Trip, who'd seemed disappointed he'd missed movie night.

_If he was really that bothered, he would've come to find me_, he thought resentfully. Trip had already made it clear that their friendship wasn't a priority out in the expanse. What troubled him most was the evidence that Trip and T'Pol were becoming closer. _She never comes to movie night!_

As he looked in the mirror in the bathroom, he shook his head.

"You're bloody well jealous of a Vulcan," he said out loud. "Get over it!"

Shame flooded him as he realised how petty he was being. Now wasn't the time for personal conflicts, not with so much at stake. Despite the persistent rumours he kept hearing about his former lover and the Vulcan woman, he refused to take them seriously.

He retired to his bed, though his sleep was disrupted with troubling dreams.

* * *

"Ah, you're awake," said Phlox, entering into the Vulcan woman's visual range. "How are you feeling, hmm?"

"I am fine, Doctor," she said, attempting to get off the biobed.

"Stay put, T'Pol," he said sternly. "I've not quite finished with you yet!" He injected her with a hypospray.

"That should be the last treatment you need," he continued. "However, if you experience any more symptoms, please report to sickbay."

"Thank you doctor," she said. This time, he didn't stop her from getting down.

Phlox looked at her with uncharacteristically grave expression on his face.

"I'd like to show you some scans I've taken while you were out," he said, gesturing to one of the computer screens.

He pointed to various images on the screen.

"As you can see, here and here," he pointed at one of the images, "You can see where the trellium has affected your brain. I've reversed the effects however, if you look here," he pointed to a different image. "I'm concerned that there may have been a slight acceleration of your pa'nar syndrome."

"I see, Doctor," she said. "Is there anything you can do?"

"I'm afraid not," he said, "I can continue the treatments that you have already received but beyond that… perhaps extra time in meditation would be of assistance."

"Thank you, doctor," she said. "I shall try to make the time."

As she left, she experience a flare of emotion; despair. She was already struggling with her nightly meditation and time wasn't a luxury she had. She did find the neuropressure sessions helped though, so going back to her quarters, she sent a message to Commander Tucker, asking him to come to her quarters the next night. He hadn't asked for one since their last session but perhaps he was merely waiting for an invitation.

It was essential though she ensured she could function, Captain Archer was depending on her, otherwise he wouldn't have asked her to stay. It troubled her though, that he refused her offer to leave her behind when she'd volunteered, knowing she was the reason they could not use the trellium to protect themselves. She'd tried to argue that it was illogical to risk the ship for the sake of one person but he'd waved off her objections, stating he was leaving no one behind.

What concerned her more was that his misplaced chivalry could be for naught; the expanse may well exact its toll on her anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

**Post ep 'The Shipment'**

"You shot T'Pol."  
Malcolm looked up from the PADD he was reading, at Trip who was staring at him with bemusement.

"Yes, I did." There wasn't much point in denying it.

"You. Shot. T'Pol."

"It was either be stunned by me or shot by Bennings. I'm fairly certain I knew which one she'd prefer. And I have already apologised to her."

"Have I ever told you you've got some balls, Malcolm?"

"I had thought you'd already noticed, Commander," Malcolm replied dryly. Trip flushed at that comment, then sat down in the seat opposite.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, Commander," replied Malcolm. "And you?"

"Yeah, think so. So weird finding those humans out here, I hope we can keep our promise to them."

"I'm certain the captain will do everything he can to ensure they're not forgotten, Trip."

The two of them sat with their hot drinks, both groping for something to say.

"Have we had any luck with the kemocite yet?" asked Malcolm.

"No, but we're not giving up. This is the first solid lead we've had." Trip contemplated his coffee.

"Are you still thinking this is a one way trip?" asked Malcolm, before sipping his tea.

Trip looked up at him and looked at him bleakly.

"Yeah, I think I do. We're just one ship, facing off an entire species." The bleakness was soon replaced by a steely determination. "We've gotta stop them no matter what the cost."

Malcolm merely nodded, resigned. Try as he may, he knew they were still facing impossible odds. He thought of Daniels with bitterness. _Surely he could've given us a few more hints!_

Trip got up.

"I gotta go, Malcolm," he said. "I'll see you around."

He left without looking back, leaving Malcolm to contemplate the stars.

* * *

Trip and T'Pol were in her quarters, another neuropressure session in progress.

"T'Pol, can I ask you something?"

"You may, Commander," she said. Despite him repeatedly asking her to call him Trip, she took refuge in the formality, her increasingly ambiguous feelings towards him unbalancing her.

"Why did you come with us?"

His question takes her aback. She'd always felt that, unlike the captain, he had taken her presence here for granted.

"I believed I could make a positive contribution to the mission," she replied.

Trip shook his head, seeming unsatisfied with her answer.

"C'mon, it's gotta be more than that. You defied your own High Command, for Pete's sake."

"Commander," she said, a little frostily. "May I remind you that we have a purpose here, that this discussion is not particularly conducive to a successful outcome for neuropressure."

Trip scowled and then winced as she pressed particularly hard on one of his nodes.

"Fine," he said, "I'll save it for another time."

"Perhaps we should end this session now. Your frame of mind at this time is not allowing you to experience the full benefit." She rocked back onto her heels from the kneeling position.

He got up and grabbed his shirt, pulling it on over her head.

"Can we try again tomorrow night?" he asked.

She paused slightly before giving him a sharp nod.

"Then you can answer my question now," he said. She could tell that he would not give up until he had an answer that would satisfied him.

"I owe the captain a debt," she said. "Vulcans take such debt seriously."

"I'm guessing it's more than him lending you his last one hundred credits," he said wryly.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it," she said. "If that is all, Commander?"

"S'okay, I get the hint," he said, giving her a small smile. He left her quarters.

She hoped that he would not bring the subject up again. She wasn't entirely convinced now that her original reasons were entirely valid. Especially as the captain had once more added to her debt, protecting her when anomalies struck the ship, injuring himself in the process. She was feeling more and more of a liability. It seemed the only way she could be of value to the captain, was to help keep his chief engineer functioning.

* * *

Another late night in the armoury eventually drove Malcolm to the mess for a break, his brain too wired for sleep. He'd adopted Trip's solution of warm milk and cinnamon, though he wondered if Trip himself bothered with it any more. As he entered the mess he saw a group of MACOs gathered around the table, Hawkins, Money, Cole and Chang, he noted. He nodded a greeting to them and they made their own acknowledgements, Chang offering a sloppy salute.

He deliberately picked a table away from theirs, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. As he sat down they resumed their conversation, seemingly uncaring of his presence.

"So what about you Chang? There must be one of those Starfleet types you've got an eye on," said Money.

"That Sato chick is pretty," he said. "And the blond from engineering, Turner? Taylor? Yeah, Taylor."

"Yeah, I know the one you mean," agreed Hawkins. "Gotta feeling she's spoken for though, she seemed pretty cosy with another engineering type."

"I hope you don't mean Tucker?" said Cole. Malcolm's ears pricked up at the mention of Trip's name. "Surely even he wouldn't screw someone under his command!"

"You couldn't blame her if he did," Money said, "He's cute!"

"Yeah, can't believe he grew up only fifty kilometres from my hometown," Cole said. "I'm pretty sure that he's not spoken for. I'm certainly aiming to find out!"

"I've heard he and the Vulcan are pretty cozy," said Chang.

Cole laughed.

"He's not going to want that cold fish, he'll want a real woman!"

"And I suppose you think you're it?" sneered Money.

"Aiming pretty high," drawled Hawkins, "Second highest rank on the ship! Money, you going to make a play for our captain?"

Malcolm froze at first as he listened to the conversation, not wanting to hear yet another rumour about Trip and T'Pol but as the conversation continued, he stood up abruptly, furious at the disrespect that his commanding officers were being spoken of. He marched over, grey eyes cold.

"I suggest you terminate this conversation immediately," he said. "Captain Archer and Commander Tucker are both deserving of your respect. We are on a mission to save our planet for destruction if you haven't forgotten!"

There was muttered apologies from the table and Malcolm could hear the undercurrent of resentment beneath them. He realised that they clearly did not respect him, if they were prepared to carry out such a conversation in his presence. The four MACOs got up.

"If you'll excuse us, sir," said Hawkins. Malcolm nodded.

"Dismissed."

He waited for them to go before finishing his milk and heading for his quarters. The conversation still played over in his mind, especially Cole's part in it. He shook his head. He doubted Trip would be interested in her anyway. Still the little niggle in the back of his mind told him otherwise. After all, Trip was not the same person he'd fallen in love with all those months ago. Maybe that Trip really was lost to him forever.


	7. Chapter 7

_Post ep 'Similitude'_

_The Journal of Malcolm Reed_

_October 24th, 2153._

_I've just come from a funeral. A funeral for someone who sacrificed their life for our mission. A person who for all intents and purposes was Trip Tucker. Except it wasn't him; it was his clone. Trip was critically injured two weeks ago. I remember when we got the news on the Bridge, that he was in a coma and not expected to survive. It took all of my willpower not to go running down to sickbay but I had my duty. Not knowing of my previous relationship with Trip, the crew wouldn't have understood why I needed to be at his side._

_He's alive, recovering, though I noticed he looked pale and weak at the funeral. Not surprising really, it must have been one hell of shock to find out in the ten days you've been in a coma, your exact double has been walking around the ship. Then, if that wasn't bad enough, to find out the double was killed to save your life._

_I wondered if I should speak to him afterwards but as soon as the funeral ended, he fled, presumably back to his quarters, having not said a single word._

_To say the last couple of weeks have been difficult is an understatement. I visited Trip when I could, the sight of him lying lifeless difficult to bear but less so than seeing Sim, his clone. I admit I avoided him as much as I could, keeping myself busy. I noticed the captain avoided him as well. I wondered what would happen when he remembered his relationships with the captain and me. I thought he might come to both of us; as far as I know he didn't seek out the captain, but considering the nature of his relationship with him, perhaps it isn't surprising._

_There was a point when I thought he was going to approach me. I had gone down to engineering; T'Pol had requested my assistance and he was there. He was looking at me the way Trip used to and it made me feel very uncomfortable because he wasn't Trip. He may have had his memories but he didn't experience the life that Trip had. He had lived an entirely different life._

_I made more of an effort to avoid him after that. By that time he'd been assigned quarters so I could visit Trip in sickbay without worrying about crossing his path._

_It's all over now, Sim's gone and Trip is recovering from the accident that should've killed him. Selfishly I'm glad he's alive and glad I didn't have to make the decisions that Captain Archer had made to save Trip's life. Even it was ethically questionable. Then again, what are ethics and morals compared to the possible extinction of the human race? Assuming we prevail, how high a price will the captain have to pay to ensure our continued existence? How much will Trip's mere existence remind Archer of how he had to compromise the values he held so dear? And would he have made the same decision if it was me or Hoshi or Travis dying in sickbay?_

_We're all being altered by this mission. I'm reminded of previous conflicts on Earth, soldiers witnessing horrors they had never dreamed of. If we prevail, if we manage to return to Earth, like those long dead soldiers, those of us left will be scarred permanently._

Once Malcolm had put his journal away in the closet he left his quarters. He intended to go to the mess hall; he'd missed lunch and it was now the dinner hour. However, he found himself standing outside Trip's quarters. He hesitated but then drew himself up and pressed the door chime. There was no answer at first and he nearly turned away, then the door opened. He entered cautiously.

"What do you want Malcolm," said Trip, his voice sounding very calm.

"I came to see how you are," he replied. He stood in the middle of the room, Trip sat on the bed. After a minute, Trip pointed vaguely at the desk chair and Malcolm sat down.

"He left me a message," he said abruptly. "He said that I should try not to get myself killed again. Is it true he had all of my memories?"

"Yes," said Malcolm. "Has Phlox and the captain not discussed it with you?"

Trip shook his head.

"They didn't give too many details… Phlox was pretty upset by the whole thing. I guess he took it pretty hard, having to… having to…" his voice trailed off, unable to speak. He stared at the floor then looked up at the British man, pure pain in his eyes.

"He should've let me die!"

"No," said Malcolm, "No, the captain was right, we need you." _I need you_, came the involuntary thought, that he quickly quashed.

"At what price?" Trip sounded anguished, buried under the weight of a guilt he couldn't comprehend. "He died for me and now I have to live up to his legacy. What if I can't?"

"You can, Trip," said Malcolm. "The only reason that he was able to make that sacrifice because of who you are. He was what you made him, someone capable of giving up their life for the greater good." Malcolm reached over and tentatively touched Trip's shoulder.

"You were prepared to give up your life for me," he reminded him.

"'Cause I was scared!" snapped Trip, pulling away. "I was scared of dying and I just wanted it over with. I was scared that you'd die first and then I'd be alone!"

"I don't believe that," said Malcolm, firmly. "You saved this ship, you put your life at risk to prevent that warp core breach."

"That's not the same thing at all!"

Malcolm was at a loss, frustrated by his inability to get through to the other man.

"Commander, you have to try, you have to go on living," he said. "Otherwise Sim's sacrifice will be for nothing."

"I know," said Trip, "I don't want it to be for nothing. I just don't know how I can deal with this."

Malcolm leaned over and squeezed Trip's hand.

"One day at a time, Trip."

The engineer looked up at his British friend and smiled sadly.

"I guess I don't have a lotta choice," came the soft reply. "Thanks, Malcolm, but I think I just need to be alone right now."

Malcolm nodded and left quietly, leaving Trip to his thoughts.

* * *

It was over, they could move on. Jon had no regrets, at least none he would admit to. Trip was alive and they had acknowledged the sacrifice that Sim had made. It would've been wrong not to do something, otherwise it would have been like throwing him out like so much garbage. Trip had looked pale and wasted at the funeral, not looking at anyone, his eyes firmly fixed on the body in the torpedo tube. Jon had briefly wondered what was going through his head. When Trip had come around from his coma, he'd only been told brief details of Sim's existence. Jon and Phlox had both avoided answering many of his questions and Trip in his weakened state, hadn't the strength to push it.

Trip had resisted going to the funeral at first, he'd seen the body of Sim in the morgue and had freaked out. Understandable, how else would anyone react to seeing their own dead body?

Jon had talked him around, bullied him, it would be more accurate to say, into going and he knew the reasons were selfish. If he didn't have the absolute proof at the funeral that Trip was alive, Jon might have thought they were really eulogising him and that his engine room was being run by a ghost.

Instead he'd given himself another reminder of how far he'd fallen from being the man he thought he was, a man of honour, of Human values and moral fibre. He almost laughed as he thought back on some of the moral quandaries he'd struggled with back before the attack on Earth, they seemed like child's play compared to what he was facing now.

Once again he found himself acting contrary to the system of values he'd held dear and he was certain he would do it again. Even the need for justification was beginning to loosen its hold on him. _Enterprise_ needed her chief engineer but there was a small part of him that, although they had drifted apart, needed Trip, couldn't bear to let him go.

So once again he'd made a decision that would have been inconceivable a year ago. The most terrifying thing about it was how it was getting easier every time.

* * *

T'Pol was in her quarters, meditating on Sim's life and death. She'd opposed the creation of the clone, stating her objections to the captain. She would've grieved for Commander Tucker had the captain listened to her but a small part of her acknowledged she was glad that he hadn't. Regardless, seeing how far the captain was willing to compromise his values disturbed her. He was becoming less of the man she had come to trust and admire.

She contemplated the kiss she had given Sim, when he'd confessed his love for her. Love, one of the more dangerous emotions. It could compel people to commit selfless acts but it could provoke other emotions, anger, greed, jealousy. Surak cautioned Vulcans to guard against love as much as against hate. Yet Sim was an innocent, he'd never learned the negative side of love. Not if he was capable of such a selfless act.

She had kissed him to acknowledge his sacrifice, his willingness to give his life for another. Thanking him for giving back a man she had become to regard highly despite her initial impressions of him. The question was, if Sim did not know whether those feelings were his or Tucker's, was whether Tucker loved her.

She knew that when she kissed Sim she felt something she hadn't felt before and she wanted to experience it again.

That night, she gave up on her unsuccessful meditations. Her sleep was restless, filled with dreams and fragments of memory. She dreamt of Sim kissing her only when she opened her eyes it was one of the Vulcans on the Seleya and his hands were around her throat.

When she woke up, she was soaked in sweat and her throat was hoarse, as if she'd been screaming.


	8. Chapter 8

**Missing Scenes 'Harbinger'**

_Forget it ever happened._

Except he won't. And neither will the people in the mess who overheard their little discussion.

"Fuck!" he said, kicking the bulkhead, something he quickly regretted. It's no good even hoping Malcolm won't get wind of what he'd done, not with him spending time with Travis, the biggest gossip on the ship.

"What was I thinking?" he said out loud. "I couldn't have just said, 'thanks, but no thanks'?"

He slumped on the bed. He wanted to blame T'Pol but he couldn't, he was just as much to blame as she was. It didn't make it any less humiliating that he betrayed Malcolm for an 'experiment in human sexuality'!

_It's not betrayal, you ended it with Malcolm!_ But he hadn't responded to Amanda when she'd kissed him, he'd made his escape as quickly as he could. Maybe he was at fault there, giving her the wrong signals, making the MACO think he was interested in her when he wasn't, couldn't be. Did he give those same signals to T'Pol? He thought that maybe because he admitted an attraction to Cole that T'Pol thought he was interested in pursuing the MACO. She didn't know him that well if she thought that. He found a lot of people attractive but it took a lot more than that to want a relationship with them.

How could he explain it? She caught him completely off guard. Yes, they were friends and yes, they were becoming close. He'd begun to feel that she was becoming the friend that Jon used to be, someone he could use as a sounding board, who would listen to him, give him advice that he would usually ended up ignoring. Tell him when he was being completely crazy. But just like with Jon he managed to screw it up with sex.

If it wasn't so completely depressing, he'd laugh. He managed to fuck the two people he considered friends but he hadn't fucked the one he wanted as a lover. He'd be lucky if Malcolm didn't use him for target practice, let alone come anywhere near him. Especially after the needling he'd got from him over the neuropressure.

As for the sex itself, it was pretty clear she'd been a virgin. He'd tried to be gentle with her but she was incredibly aggressive, almost violent, not that it wasn't good. He thought, he hoped she'd enjoyed it, she certainly sounded like she did. And if he was completely honest with himself, he had. It been a long time since he'd had sex and a _really_ long time since he had sex with a woman. In this case, a very hot woman; it'd been like making love to someone with a fever. He remembered her telling him that Vulcan body temperature was several degrees above a Human's.

When it was all over, he'd been as desperate to leave as she was for him to go. Already he could sense the regret their liaison had engendered in her. It made him wonder what the hell was going on in her head that she initiated it in the first place. He didn't buy the 'experiment' line for a minute and something as petty as jealousy over Cole didn't seem right either, he figured Vulcans would be above such things. However, if she was content to let the matter drop, put it down as a moment of madness, then so would he. It wasn't as though he loved her. At least he didn't think so.

All he had to worry about now was the fallout from when Malcolm found out.

* * *

_He slept with T'Pol!_

He _knew_ he didn't buy that Vulcan neuropressure was innocent bollocks. How could he have been so stupid? This was _Trip_ he was talking about, lover of alien women, ex lover of Captain Archer. He wondered if he _had_ slept with that princess from Krios, despite his denials. Bloody hell, he might have had a quick shag with Feezal in the end, despite his efforts to get away from her.

Maybe that line he spun about him only shagging the captain since they'd left space dock, was just that, a line. Damn good job that no one found out about his liaison with him, not that it had gone much beyond kissing and fondling. When he said he wanted to take it slow, he'd meant it. Now it turns out the friend he trusted with his heart was no better than that pillock he'd ended up with after that humiliating dumping by Faith at university. _Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it. I guess I didn't learn a bloody thing!_

"Bloody, fucking, hell!" Malcolm cursed his room in general. It didn't make him feel any better. "I hope the two of you are bloody happy together!"

He'd go down the gym and blow off some steam but thanks to his altercation with Major Fucking Hayes, he was too stiff and sore to even think about it. Pity, he could do with a session with the punch bag, preferably with a picture of Trip's face on it.

"You bastard, you utter, utter bastard," he muttered. Yet he was forced to remind himself that Trip had made no promises to him, he'd made it clear their relationship was over. A vague promise for after all this was over wasn't worth a bean when Trip was convinced they were on a one way ticket to hell.

It still hurt, worse than the goading Hayes had delivered, the punches he had thrown. Hayes had hurt him professionally and physically, Trip had hurt him personally. Far worse than his previous lovers. After all, since Faith, he hadn't been as emotionally invested in them as he had been in Trip.

Not even with Liam, the last male lover he'd had. Who'd claimed to be his friend, offering him comfort after Faith, only to end up using Malcolm until someone better came along.

_This time the 'someone better' turned about to be our supposedly unemotional Vulcan!_

He laughed bitterly as he recalled the scene in the gym, T'Pol knocked on her ass when she was staring daggers at Trip and Cole. Then again, he hadn't been very happy with that display either. Once again he had found himself questioning the wisdom of the captain bringing the MACOs on board and that was _before_ one of them nearly injured Travis.

His own behaviour left a lot to be desired, he was forced to admit. He'd allowed his petty jealousy over Cole and his resentment over the presence of Hayes and his people to goad him into that ridiculous school boy brawl with the Major. He winced as remembered the dressing down he'd received from the captain. It didn't make him feel any better than Hayes got the same. At least the two of them had come to some kind of understanding though it still didn't stop him wanting to shove the other man out of the nearest airlock.

He sat on his bed, head in his hands. The expanse was having an effect on all of them, bringing out the ugly side of humanity and they were beginning to lose sight of what their purpose was for being here. It seemed as though his prediction about this mission leaving them scarred was coming to pass.

Yet, despite what had happened, he realised he still loved Trip. Maybe he needed to hold on to that love, before he lost everything that made him human.

* * *

T'Pol returned to her quarters, not even trying to suppress the feeling of relief that Commander Tucker was willing to forget the events of last night. Entering the room, she realised she was shaking slightly, the emotions that had boiled over last night leading her to kiss Trip, were still running rampant through her mind.

Shame was prominent; no Vulcan should have acted as she had done the previous night. She was an unbonded female and she'd offered herself sexually to a man to whom she had no prior commitment, like one of her primitive ancestors. Her emotions had been heightened that day; she had injected herself with trellium that morning after another night disturbed by nightmares. Then she'd experience new emotions, jealousy as she saw the moment of intimacy between Cole and Tucker in the gym, that resulted in her lapse in concentration, to a humiliating end. Anger, at the knowledge that Tucker had been practising neuropressure with the MACO.

The jealousy had taken her by surprise; perhaps her affection for Trip was growing, despite her belief that Humans, especially ones such as he, were too emotionally immature for the complexities of an interspecies relationship. She still believed that; a relationship between them would be unsustainable, too much compromise would be required. The anger was more understandable, Trip had been his usual impulsive self, not considering the consequences of his actions, not listening to her warnings that when applied incorrectly, neuropressure could be damaging.

Yet she found herself remembering Sim and the kiss, the feeling it had engendered in her. She'd felt it again when she kissed Trip and it had intensified during their mating. However when it was all over, she was left with guilt and shame that outweighed the pleasure she had felt during their copulation, as well as relief at him making a hasty exit, seeing the regret in his eyes, which simply intensified those feelings.

She went into head and splashed some water onto her face, willing herself to calm down. When she glanced at the mirror she saw someone she barely recognised. Gone was the usual calm demeanour, replaced with a haunted expression, dark circles under her eyes attesting to the lack of restful sleep.

She had been right to be concerned about the effect this region of space was having on her. Despite Captain Archer's efforts, it seemed the expanse had claimed her after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Missing scene 'Azati Prime'**

Malcolm watched Trip leave the bridge, knowing him as well he as he did, he could see that the engineer was close to breaking point. He hesitated and glanced at Hoshi, her face shadowed with grief. A glance at Travis as well, the helmsman's normally irrepressible nature subdued, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He'd argued passionately that he should've been the one to go. There was a pall over the whole bridge, something essential had been lost with the departure of Captain Archer.

He glanced over at the ready room door, but it remained stubbornly shut. He didn't know what had happened to cause Trip to flee but it couldn't be good. T'Pol should be on the bridge now, they needed to make a decision as to how to proceed as it was beginning to look as though the captain had given his life in vain.

A quick check of the internal sensors told him that Trip wasn't in engineering, as Malcolm would have expected him to be, but was in his quarters. The feeling of dread increased and someone had to take action. Only it meant he too would have to abandon the bridge, the empty chair that no one wanted to even look at. Trip hadn't left him a lot of choice.

"Ensign Mayweather," Travis started as he heard his name. "You have the bridge."

"Yes, sir," the helmsman acknowledged, dully.

Briefly Malcolm put a hand on the helmsman's shoulder.

"I won't be long."

Malcolm left, not before answering Hoshi's pleading look with a smile of reassurance. In the turbolift he considered what he would do. T'Pol's behaviour had become increasingly erratic over the last few weeks and he wasn't entirely sure he could trust her. That left Trip to command the mission if T'Pol should falter. Trip, whose own behaviour was at times bordering irrational, as he refused to face up to the grief over his sister.

Now he'd had to watch his best friend and former lover essentially commit suicide. Malcolm knew he was the only one who could get through to Trip and to do so he'd have to put aside his jealousy over T'Pol. This time he wouldn't be pushed away. There would be time after the mission when he could berate Trip for his inconstancy. For now, he would remember the love he still had for him.

He arrived at Tucker's door, straightened his shoulders. For the sake of the crew, the ship, the captain and Earth, he would pull Trip from the brink.

* * *

Trip left the captain's ready room, his face pale. He tried to hold it together as he left the bridge but as the turbolift doors closed he leaned heavily against the wall as his legs gave way. A sob escaped his lips as he sent the lift down to E deck. He had to pull it together somehow but he was so damned scared. T'Pol was coming apart at the seams and the captain…

"Oh, God, Jon," he whispered. "Why?"

Somehow he made it to his quarters. He stumbled into the head, shaking, not sure what he was even doing. He collapsed onto the floor, against the shower and the sobs he was trying to hold back threatened to break free. He stuffed a fist into his mouth as if to stop them.

_Jon's dead, he must be dead._ His best friend for over ten years, it couldn't be possible. _I loved you, Jon, maybe not the way you wanted me to but I did love you. _He'd tried to convey that love with his eyes at the moment the captain said goodbye.

He was aware on some level of the door chime sounding, then the door opening, but he didn't really come back to the here and now until Malcolm crouched down next to him. He grasped Malcolm's sleeve as if to anchor himself in this reality.

Malcolm gently cradled the blond head and pulled it towards his chest. Trip closed his eyes and allowed Malcolm to comfort him, breathing in his scent, his sweat from many hours on duty.

"Trip, we need you," said the soft British voice. "I know you're grieving but the crew needs you, _Enterprise_ needs you."

Trip pulled away and looked into Malcolm's navy blue eyes. _Should've joined the Royal Navy, Mal_, he thought. _Then you'd be safe, away from this vale of tears. Except if we didn't succeed you, be dead. Just like Jon._

"Help me, Malcolm!" he pleaded. "I can't do this alone!"

"You're not alone, Trip, the whole crew is behind you." Cupping Trip's face in his hands, he kissed him gently on the forehead. "I've got your back, Commander."

Trip shuddered and slowly stood up, with Malcolm's help. He moved to the the sink and ran the cold water, splashed his face.

"T'Pol's lost it," he said hoarsely, "She's coming apart… I don't think she knows who she is any more."

"I know," said Malcolm, slipping an arm around Trip's waist. "But that's why we need you Trip. We need you to be strong. I'm sorry, so sorry about the captain, I know what he means to you but he's left us a job to do and he's counting on us."

Trip nodded, feeling calmer in his friend's steady presence, lending him strength. Malcolm was right, he couldn't grieve for Jon now. _You still haven't grieved for Lizzie, your own sister!_ This wasn't over, from Jon he'd not only inherited the ship and the mission but seven million ghosts standing at his shoulders, demanding a justification for their deaths.

"I'm needed in engineering, Malcolm," he said, his voice now calm, with a touch of authority to it. "Get back to the bridge… keep an eye on T'Pol."

Malcolm nodded and they both headed for the turbolift.

* * *

"Get out!" She had actually shouted at Tucker and he'd fled the ready room, shocked by her uncharacteristic display of anger. Abandoning her in her hour of need.

She was shaking, tears flowing silently down her cheek. _I failed you, Captain!_ He had left them and she had let him, she should've been the one to go. _I am the one who is expendable, not you! Now you've left me with a debt I can _never _repay!_

Instead, ignoring her pleas, the pleas his senior crew had made, he'd chosen to sacrifice himself to destroy the Weapon. He was likely to be dead by now but there was no evidence of an explosion. The thought that his sacrifice could have been for nothing was more than she could bear. Not only that, he'd left her in command of the ship and the mission.

She looked at the door that lead to the bridge. The crew would be looking to her, Tucker would be looking to her, despite her practically throwing him out of the captain's… _her_ ready room. Tucker, devastated at the loss of his best friend. Already, he had his share of unhealed grief and now that captain had added to his pain.

She had a human desire to complain about the unfairness of this situation. _Kroykah!_ She is _Vulcan_, she will not permit such petty sentiments dictate to her! She looked at the door that led to the bridge. _Control!_

Once again she experienced shame, that she had the urge to go to her quarters and access the trellium there but she could not. She had her duty to carry out, as the minutes ticked by, the chances of the captain successfully having destroyed the Weapon diminished.

She wiped her face with her hands and tried to at least give the impression of calm. Then she stepped out onto the bridge.


	10. Chapter 10

**Post Ep 'Damage'**

_You did the right thing._

Somehow, deep inside, he didn't think Trip or he really believed that. It was done though, they had stranded a ship years from home to make the rendez-vous with Degra. His own ship had took a terrible battering, fourteen dead, three unaccounted for, Trip feared they had been lost when the hull had been breached but until they'd fully assessed the damage they wouldn't know for sure. Now the ship was on its way at warp 3.2, the best Trip could do with the modified warp coil.

He'd looked awful, when Jon first saw him, exhausted, dirty, even as he was aware his own appearance leaved a lot to be desired. Guilt had shadowed his eyes when he told Jon of the damage to the ship. _If I hadn't managed to persuade them to call off the attack_...

No, he wouldn't think of it anymore, wouldn't think of Dolim telling him his ship was destroyed, his crew dead.

Trip had been strangely calm after they had stolen the Illyrian's warp coil, in complete contrast to T'Pol. To say he'd been shocked at her reaction to their argument in his ready room was an understatement. He'd never seen her that way, not since the _Seleya_. Truth be told, it had scared him, to see her so out of control. Perhaps, despite their cautions with the trellium, she'd become exposed anyway.

It was evident she was concealing something from him and it worried him. He realised he'd become so accustomed to her usual stoicism that he'd become dependent on it. Seeing it gone left him floundering, his anchor gone. Once again he was forced to measure the price he was paying for the chance to save Earth, but it made him more and more determined.

With the actions he already taken, many of his cherished values were vanishing like so much smoke. However, it seemed the erosion of much of what made him who he was, someone with honour and integrity, was not enough. The mission had already claimed Trip, leaving him a grim spectre of the man he used to be, a man Jon had once loved. Now it had claimed T'Pol as well, stripping away the control she'd had over her emotions.

How much more were they going to have to pay? Once it was over and Earth was safe, what would be left of him, Trip and T'Pol?

* * *

T'Pol left sickbay, her emotions in turmoil. Relief that she had unburdened herself. Guilt at her behaviour, which as she looked back over the last couple of months, had become increasingly erratic. Shame that she had brought this on herself. She shook, the overwhelming urge to inject herself again was painful but she'd promised Phlox never again.

She entered her quarters and with trembling fingers managed to light her meditation candle. She had to try and suppress these feelings, the captain needed her functioning. She'd shocked him with her unseemly display in the ready room, her emotions were already out of control before she'd even entered, the news the captain was alive had caused a surge of emotions she could hardly even comprehend. She'd had to force herself to remain at her post when she felt the urge to run to his side, to verify with her own eyes his continued existence. She'd seen Trip rush off the bridge to sickbay and knew she could not follow him.

Trip, who'd she'd used abominably, taking advantage of his emotional vulnerability to explore the emotions the trellium had released. The emotions she had felt when she kissed Sim, when she kissed and mated with Trip had a different focus now, the man lying in sickbay.

She didn't trust them though, she didn't know what they implied. She tried to focus on the flame, to try and sort through the emotions roiling through her mind, to identify each one, to use the Disciplines to accept and move past them, but it was nearly an impossible task with the residual trellium in her system. It was as though she was drowning in them, the lifeline of her emotional control slipping out of her grasp.

The overriding emotions she could sense were fear and shame. She had irreparably damaged herself. Even if they succeeded she would be shunned when she returned home, she would become _V'tosh ka'tur_, ostracised from her people if she could not find her way back to the path of _c'thia_. Once again she attempted to focus on the candle. She had to succeed, she must!

Yet perhaps it was her very desperation that made the focus she needed become so elusive. Nevertheless, she had to try.

* * *

**Post Ep 'The Forgotten'**

"Hey Malcolm," Trip spoke softly as he slipped his hand into the armoury officer lying on the biobed. "D'you come here often?"

Malcolm smirked at the teasing tone in the engineer's voice and squeezed the hand that held his.

"It is getting to be rather a habit, sir," he said. "The good doctor has assured me this is my own private bed."

Trip let out a small chuckle. Then he looked serious.

"How are you doing and don't tell me you're 'fine'!"

"I've been better, I have to admit. Phlox says he'll release me in a couple of days. Light duties only," he smirked to show Trip that his definition of light duties would not be the same as the doctor's. Trip shook his head ruefully.

"Listen, Malcolm, there's something I need to say to you," He held his hand up when Malcolm tried to speak. "Jus' hear me out, 'kay?" The other man nodded.

"I owe you an apology… I hadn't dealt with Lizzie's death at all and you tried to help. I wanna say I'm sorry that I pushed you away."

Malcolm's eyes softened and again he squeezed Trip's hand.

"I understand… I always did," he said. "There was no need to apologise for that. I am still your friend."

He saw a flash of pain in the summer blue eyes and wondered what it meant.

"You scared the hell out of me out there," Trip said. "I thought I was going to lose you. I don't think I can-" suddenly he stopped, the distress in his eyes eloquent behind the tears that had begun to form.

Malcolm pulled himself up in a sitting position, ignoring the slow rolling of stomach as he did so. He saw Trip swallow hard then speak again.

"I can't tell you how hard it was out on the hull tryin' to finish the job when all I wanted to do was to get you to safety."

"If you pulled me off before I'd finished, we'd all be dead."

Trip nodded, knowing better than anyone how true that was.

"I know I've been a bastard and I've done some things I ain't proud of, but I wanna try and put things right between us."

"Not now though," said Malcolm. "I'll hear you out and then I'll have my say. But it'll have to wait."

Trip managed a small smile.

"I know that but-" with a swift look over his shoulder, he swooped in and pressed his lips against Malcolm's. He pulled away before the British man could respond.

"I love you, Malcolm Reed," he said. "I jus' wanted to tell you that in case… I never get the chance again."

Malcolm reached up and put a hand against Trip's cheek. Despite everything that had gone wrong between them, there was only one possible response now.

"I love you, Trip Tucker."


	11. Chapter 11

**Missing scenes, post ep 'E²'**

_Married to T'Pol? With a son? And dead when that son was just fourteen!_ He couldn't doubt the truth of it though, Lorian was the spitting image of his grandfather, Trip's father, Charles Junior. _Apart from the ears!_ He'd seen nothing of himself, certainly personality wise he was nothing like him.

He began to panic slightly, what if their one night together had resulted in pregnancy? He had the urge to find T'Pol and ask her if it was possible but then he remembered Phlox remarking about 'his work'. Clearly Humans and Vulcans needed medical intervention to conceive a hybrid child.

So they'd obviously planned it together. He was tempted to go about meeting the other T'Pol but he wouldn't. It wouldn't be fair to her, to confront her with the husband she'd lost so many years ago.

_What about Malcolm? What happened to us?_ Perhaps they'd had their talk… maybe Malcolm had told him to 'sod off' back to T'Pol. With a ratio of three men to one woman and the need for a generational ship, not all the men would get paired off which would explain Malcolm's apparent lack of offspring on the other _Enterprise_. Selfishly, he was glad. Perhaps, he thought idly, he and Malcolm had carried out a torrid extra-marital affair. He shook his head at the notion. He wouldn't do that. If he married T'Pol, he would have taken their marriage vows seriously and it sounded like he'd loved her.

He did love her though, he knew he did. However, he loved her as a friend, not a lover! So how the hell did he end up married to her? Since it was imperative that all the women on the ship produced children and considering the two of them had already been intimate, perhaps it was a logical decision that she would choose him to father her children.

He was disappointed that they'd only had one, he'd always pictured himself having a large family, like his own back home. He was sure they'd had good reasons for stopping at the one child.

He thought of Malcolm again, although the selfish part of him was glad that it'd seemed he hadn't hooked up with anyone, part of him was sad as well.

_What if I changed things? They've told us our future… but maybe it could be different? _His mind rejected that thought, not wanting to get into the ramifications of altering the future. It was hard enough trying to wrap his head around the notion that they gone back in time over a century. Not only had Lizzie not died, she hadn't even be born yet! Hell, he didn't think his grandparents had been born!

Now they were attempting to change the future anyway. The captain was determined to find away to enter the vortex without the risk of them going back in time. Trip hoped they were successful; not only because if they missed the rendezvous with Degra they might miss their last chance at saving Earth but because he was afraid of a future he wasn't sure he wanted.

* * *

The old one watched as her younger self left. Perhaps she should feel a small bit of guilt that she had been guilty of a lie of omission, several in fact. She and Trip had had a true marriage, she cherished him and he loved her but that had come with time. She had grieved his loss terribly, did not attempt to look to replace him even though there were logical reasons for her to do so. She did not think she would ever again have that same bond she'd had with her husband.

She had been tempted to visit the other ship but the presence of so many ghosts stopped her and one ghost in particular, who she knew had often haunted her husband's dreams, held her back.

Just six weeks after the _Enterprise_ had been thrown back in time, Malcolm Reed had been killed in when an away mission had gone terribly wrong.

On his death, the crew had been shocked to discover that Trip and Malcolm had been involved in an intimate relationship, unsurprising considering the speculation about her and Trip, and Cole and Trip. No one had suspected anything.

Trip had been devastated, heartbroken at the loss of the man he loved. He'd broken down at the funeral, Jonathan had had to prise him away from the torpedo casing that contained the body of his lover and then Trip had thrown a punch at the captain, blaming him for Malcolm's death. The rift that had been opened between Archer and Tucker when the Vissian first contact had ended in tragedy became an unbreachable canyon as Trip railed at the captain, revealing their own previous intimate relationship in the process. It was a breach that never healed, with the two of them barely talking except on matters of ship's business.

Trip had taken to drinking heavily in an effort to numb the pain and in the end it was she that interceded, fearing he intended to drink himself to death.

She'd gone to him, confessing to him her use of the trellium-D. He'd been furious with her, accusing her of deceiving and manipulating him. She'd begged him for his forgiveness and his help, there was no one else she could turn to that she could trust. The part of him that couldn't turn away a friend in need had responded, the part of him that wanted to remain among the living.

The neuropressure sessions were resumed, helping him to deal with his grief and alcohol abuse, helping her to deal with her recovery from her addiction and to forget her burgeoning feelings for another. They grew closer, helped by the discovery of the mating bond between them and it took them to the next logical step, marriage and a child. They had grown to love each other deeply, content in their small family unit. He'd convinced her not to risk another pregnancy after she had haemorrhaged badly after Lorian's birth.

However the Trip she'd married was a shell of the man he used to be, when before he was vivid and full of good humour, during their years of marriage he was quiet and introspective, rarely smiling, never laughing. He'd been a good father to their son, though she'd noticed that Lorian had had a closer relationship to Jonathan, despite the antipathy that existed between the captain and his former friend.

She hadn't told her younger self any of this. If Captain Archer failed in his attempt to prevent the incursion into the past, then she would soon find out, the path of time that had been laid out had to be allowed to unfold. If he was successful, it would be if none of them on her _Enterprise_ had ever existed. The other _Enterprise_ would experience a different future, one not yet written, yet one which she may have influenced.

* * *

The other ship never emerged out of the vortex, yet they all remembered her. All of them subtly changed by the revelations of a possible future. Malcolm was still shaken by those that affected him. He'd known the minute he'd clapped eyes on Lorian that he was Trip and T'Pol's son. He'd seen Lorian look at him without recognising him and wondered what it had meant. Soon he discovered the truth; a chance conversation with one of the captain's descendants revealed that he had been the first casualty of the past, dying only six weeks after the _Enterprise_ had been thrown back. He hadn't told anyone, he just told Hoshi and Travis that he hadn't any offspring. No wonder; he'd never gotten the bloody chance!

In a bizarre way, he was glad as it meant that Trip hadn't abandoned him for T'Pol. At least he thought that was what it meant. Still, it seemed he had even more of a vested interest in ensuring the captain's plan to use the vortex without time shifting worked. If the plan failed, in six weeks he would be dead.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N Serit, I know there is a distinct lack of pineapple in this story. I've put some in this chapter.**

**Post Ep 'Countdown'**

Trip opened the door to his cabin to see Malcolm there, a bundle under his arms.

"C'mon in," said Trip, with surprise. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"I was hoping to impose on you by using your shower," he replied, waving the bundle, a towel and a clean uniform, at him. "I've no hot water again and neither have the communal showers near by."

"Be my guest," said Trip. "We gotta about an hour before-" he never got to finish his sentence as he suddenly found himself pinned against the bulkhead, his mouth covered by that of the armoury officer. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, he returned the kiss enthusiastically, his hands pulling the small, muscular form in his arms towards him. Without breaking the kiss, Malcolm unzipped Trip's jumpsuit, his hand then snaking under his shirt and vest, stroking the bare flesh underneath. Trip gasped as the hand went lower, under the waistband of his boxers to grasp his hardening flesh.

Trip broke the kiss, startled and not a little horny.

"Woah, there Lieutenant," he said playfully, "Are you attempting to ravish a superior officer?"

Malcolm looked up with eyes full of desire.

"That's exactly it, Commander," he said. "Now get your bloody clothes off!" Not waiting for a response, Malcolm started undressing as Trip followed suit. As soon as they were both naked Trip dragged him over to the bed and they lay down on it, kissing deeply, hands roaming their naked flesh., desperately trying to get as much skin contact as possible.

Where's the lube?" asked Malcolm, before he slid down the bed to take Trip's cock in his mouth. Trip cried out at the sensation of that hot wetness on him before blindly scrambling for the lube he kept in the drawer next to the bed, passing it to Malcolm.

"Malcolm, you need to stop, I'm too close," he moaned as Malcolm continued his ministrations. He did so pulling himself up to kiss Trip on the mouth.

"I want you in me, Trip," he said, his voice husky. Trip was surprised the sound of it didn't make him come instantly. Instead his brows knitted in worry.

"Malcolm, I've never-" he stuttered. "I don't want to hurt you!"

"You won't, love," said Malcolm confidently. "You know what to do." Malcolm rolled onto his back and spread his legs. Trip kissed him before gently pushing a well lubed finger inside his lover.

"Tell me if I hurt you, Mal," he said, giving the finger a wriggle. An answering moan convinced him to add another one, scissoring his fingers to stretch the internal muscles.

"More!" grunted the smaller man and Trip obliged, his fingers stroking inside, searching, watching Malcolm's face. Never had he seen the man so open, so naked, so revealing of his very soul.

"Oh God, Trip, right there!" Trip smiled as he realised he found what he was looking for. He squeezed the base of his cock which felt as if it was about to explode from the sheer passion in Malcolm's voice.

"Please, Trip, need you right now, just fuck me!"

"Happy to oblige," he said as he gently removed his fingers and settled between his lover's legs. He pushed his cock into Malcolm's ass until he slid past the ring of muscle to push deep within. He held himself still though the urge to start thrusting was hard to resist but he wanted to be sure that the other man was ready. Malcolm responded by wrapping his legs around Trip's waist, the strong muscular thighs squeezing hard.

"Bloody get on with it, Trip, we don't have much time!" At that, Trip began to thrust.

"Oh fuck, Mal, you feel so good," he moaned. He reached around to stroke his lover's cock, amazed at how loudly Malcolm was expressing his pleasure; dimly wondering if they could hear them on the bridge, five decks away, then deciding he didn't care. However, this wasn't how he imagined their first time making love, this was hard and fast, but right now he would take whatever Malcolm wanted to give him. It was more than he thought he deserved.

All too quickly it was over, both of them spent and sticky. They lay back on the bed curled up together, the dark haired head resting on the blond man's shoulder.

"What brought this on, Mal?" said Trip after a few minutes.

"In about," Malcolm looked at the clock. "Forty five minutes we'll be going our separate ways. We don't know if we're going to succeed or if we'll even survive. If I'm going to my death I want to take the memory of you with me."

Trip looked at him anxiously. He knew that their chance of survival was slim, they only had a narrow margin to destroy the spheres and the party going to destroy the Weapon would be facing insurmountable odds. But he'd refused to consider the possibility of failure or death.

Yet the seriousness of Malcolm's voice made him hold his protests. Instead he pulled Malcolm closer.

"I love you, Mal," he said. "I'm so glad we got this moment. I'm just sorry-"

"Hush, love." Malcolm placed a hand over Trip's mouth, "If by some miracle we get out of this alive, then we'll have all the time in the world for that talk I said we'd have. Nothing matters now except what we have right here."

Trip kissed the hand on his mouth and Malcolm moved it away.

"Did you still want that shower?" asked Trip.

"Bloody right I do!" The armoury officer chuckled and the two men got up. Trip turned the shower on and they stepped in under the spray. He grabbed the shampoo and washed Malcolm's hair first, smiling at the happy sighs he was eliciting from his lover. Then he washed his own before they rinsed.

Malcolm then picked up the shower gel.

"Pineapple?" Malcolm grinned and Trip looked sheepish.

"I like pineapple too you know!" he said, defensively.

Malcolm squirted some in his hand and laved his lover all over with it, squirting some onto Trip's so he could return the favour. They both stroked their cocks, already getting hard again from so much skin contact. Malcolm's hand made their way around to Trip's ass, one slick finger stroking down the cleft.

"My turn now," he said huskily. "Turn around, Trip." Trip did so spreading his legs wide and leaning forward against the wall, moaning as the slicked finger penetrated his ass. It was soon joined by two more and he thrust back trying to encourage them deeper. He groaned as the fingers brushed his prostate sending shocks up his spine.

"I'm ready Malcolm," he said. In no time at all, the fingers were replaced with Malcolm's long thick cock. It stung a little, it had been a while since Jon but the pain was soon replaced by an intense pleasure. Malcolm thrust deeply and steadily, caressing Trip's cock in time with his thrusts, trying to make it last. Trip's hands pressed against the wall, his head thrown back, eyes closed as he slowly climbed the peak of pleasure, stimulated internally and externally. Time was not on their side though as Malcolm increased the speed of his thrust and strokes, bringing them both to a mind blowing climax. As soon as Malcolm's softening cock slipped out of him, Trip turned around and pulled Malcolm to him, the warm water washing away the evidence of their lovemaking.

Fifteen minutes later they were getting dressed into their clean uniforms, ready to face what was to come.

The chief engineer and the chief tactical officer of the _Enterprise_ looked at each other, both realising it could be for the last time. Navy blue eyes met summer blue ones, conveying the love they felt for each other. No matter what happened in the next few hours, they would always have that.

"Ready, Lieutenant?"

"Ready, Commander!"

"Let's get this done."

**A/N Never fear there is a third story planned to pick up this one leaves off, It's called 'I'll Stand by You'**


End file.
